Don't Have To Live Like a Refugee
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Joseph, a community leader among Myanmar refugees in Malaysia, and Patrick, an advocacy specialist working on refugee and migrant issues there, speak from Kuala Lumpur about lives shaped by displacement, endurance, and collective responsibility. In this sobering interview, they describe Malaysia as a place of refuge but not resolution, a country where people can survive but are never allowed to fully settle.
Joseph taught basic English and his ethnic language in village communities in northern Myanmar. But systemic persecution due to his Christian and ethnic minority status, as well as the challenges of living in a conflict zone, caused him to leave the country in 2010; he says he arrived in Malaysia carrying fear, grief, and emotional disorientation. Patrick, also from an ethnic minority background, describes a different but equally coercive path. He left Myanmar at eighteen because armed conflict and forced labor made remaining in his homeland unsafe. Young men in his area were pressured to work on front lines, and his parents urged him to escape before he was compelled into military service.
Both men talk about their early years in Malaysia as a struggle for basic survival. Patrick says language was the first and most immediate barrier. When he arrived, he spoke neither English nor Malay and learned to communicate in those languages by his restaurant work and daily observation. Joseph describes spending long periods limiting his movements, focusing first on settling his emotions before gradually becoming involved in community work. Over time, both adapted to daily life in Kuala Lumpur, but they emphasize that adaptation never became security. Even after many years, they still live with constraints imposed by their legal status.
Because Malaysia, like Thailand, was not a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention, those fleeing conflict are permitted to remain in the country but are not legally recognized as refugees and have no pathway to citizenship or permanent residency. This legal framework shapes nearly every aspect of refugee life in Malaysia. Refugee documentation is largely administered through the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees; UNHCR cards can provide limited recognition, but they do not confer legal status, prevent arrest, or guarantee access to services. Joseph adds that as a result, thousands of Myanmar refugees live in Malaysia without proper documentation, while another large and growing group consists of stateless people born in Malaysia to refugee parents. These children cannot obtain citizenship from Myanmar and are also denied Malaysian nationality, creating an expanding population with no legal belonging. They contrast this situation with the refugee situation in Western countries where legal pathways to permanent residence and citizenship exist. Patrick explains that even after nearly twenty years, he still feels like a foreigner. The absence of legal stability shaped employment, healthcare access, and movement in public spaces.
Joseph describes how Myanmar refugee communities in Malaysia have evolved over time. When he first arrived, many displaced people did not think of themselves as refugees and were unaware that asylum processes (through UCHNR) existed. Ethnic divisions imported from Myanmar initially limited communication and cooperation, particularly among non-Burman groups who were reluctant to speak Burmese. Despite this, community leaders recognized the need for unity and formed coalitions to advocate collectively. Community-based organizations also emerged, though leadership transitions and limited resources often made sustained coordination difficult.
In 2021, the coup in Myanmar changed both the scale and urgency of these community efforts. Joseph explains that many people did not flee the country immediately after the military takeover because they remained involved in protests and civil disobedience. By mid-2021, however, when it became clear that peaceful resistance alone would not bring rapid change, increasing numbers of civil servants involved in the Civil Disobedience Movement, young activists, and ordinary citizens began leaving Myanmar to seek safety in Malaysia and Thailand.
Patrick explains that conditions worsened further after the junta announced conscription. Young people faced a direct threat of forced military service. Many more fled the country, but their journeys were dangerous. Some arrived safely in Malaysia, while others were arrested along the way or became victims of human trafficking. Community organizations tried to register new arrivals, arrange temporary shelter, and help them find informal work, but resources were extremely limited. Joseph says that some new arrivals to Malaysia were deported. Community members lost contact with them and fear they were detained or conscripted. Patrick adds that people without proper documentation are especially vulnerable. Even those holding UNHCR cards face exploitation, including unpaid labor and abuse by employers, because reporting violations risks arrest.
Both men describe immigration detention centers as sites of extreme vulnerability for refugees. Patrick explains that large numbers of Myanmar nationals are detained at any given time, particularly those who are newly arrived, undocumented, or swept up during enforcement riads. The Burmese community receives little information about their situation once they are inside. Advocates are not allowed to visit, and families often lose contact entirely. Detainees face impossible choices: return to Myanmar despite fear of persecution, or remain in detention for months or even years with no clear resolution. Some cannot return because they lack identity documents, while others fear being targeted by the junta if deported. Joseph describes this as a system that offers neither protection nor an exit.
Joseph and Patrick connect all this to a widening mental health crisis. The cumulative effects of violence in Myanmar, dangerous flight, detention risk, economic exploitation, and prolonged legal uncertainty, they say, converge on people who are already exhausted. Patrick recounts receiving phone calls and messages from individuals experiencing severe psychological distress. Some expressed suicidal thoughts, said they could not sleep, or believed someone was trying to kill them. Others spoke of wanting to jump from buildings or give up entirely.
These cries for help have become more frequent. Within a single month, Joseph says, several people in his small community died, often linked, in his view, to untreated physical injuries or psychological trauma. He explains that leaders are overwhelmed, juggling registration, arrests, and emergencies, leaving little capacity to investigate root causes or support grieving families.
Mental health services for refugees have largely collapsed, according to Patrick. Organizations that previously provided counseling closed or stopped accepting new cases after funding cuts. As a result, refugees with serious psychological conditions have nowhere to turn. He describes mental health as a forgotten issue even as signs of crisis multiply.
Regarding integration into Malaysian society, Joseph explains that media portrayal strongly shapes public perception. Refugees and migrants have often been depicted as criminals without evidence, which fuels public hostility. He describes a raid undertaken on the pretense of widespread gambling; hundreds of Myanmar immigrants were arrested even though there were just a handful of cases. Such narratives, he argues, generate hate speech and deepen anti-refugee sentiment.
On the other hand, refugees contribute significantly to Malaysia’s economy, working in construction, plantations, fishing, and service industries. However, according to Patrick, these contributions are rarely acknowledged. He emphasizes that refugees are not seeking special treatment, but basic rights, especially the right to work legally and to move without constant fear of arrest.
In response to all these legal, psychological and social pressures, community-based training programs designed for newly arrived youth have been opened, which Patrick and Joseph run. Participants learn how to interact respectfully with police, how to carry and present documents, and how to avoid misunderstandings rooted in cultural or religious differences. Joseph emphasizes that many newcomers had never lived outside Myanmar and so are unfamiliar with the exigencies of cross-cultural awareness and understanding. These programs also address the importance of dignity and restoring hope. Joseph explains that many young arrivals no longer dare to dream, and so through vision-focused exercises, participants begin to imagine goals again. Patrick adds that the training compresses years of hard-earned experience into a few days, giving newcomers tools that could otherwise take a decade to acquire through trial and error.
Demand for these classes presently exceeds capacity. Those who do attend often ask for longer sessions or additional training. Despite limited funding, organizers continue because knowledge, they argue, functions as protection. That said, many refugees who would like to attend cannot, because employers refuse leave or because they are trapped in exploitative work arrangements.
Both men reflect on the psychological toll their long-term exile and community involvement has taken. Joseph explains that he limits his exposure to news from Myanmar to better be able to cope, even though he remains involved in advocacy and therefore needs to stay aware of major developments in the country. He describes the strain of constantly absorbing reports of violence, displacement, and loss while being unable to intervene directly. Patrick echoes this sense of emotional exhaustion, explaining that years of working with newly arrived refugees, detention cases, and mental health crises leave little time and space for his own healing. The burden, he says, comes not only from witnessing the suffering, but from carrying the responsibility for others’ survival in a system that offers no resolution.
That emotional strain is inseparable from how both men understand exile itself. Joseph describes the steady brain drain from Myanmar as skilled and educated people leave the country, hollowing out communities and deepening his sense of loss. Patrick situates this within a broader regional pattern, explaining that refugees in ASEAN countries live with permanent uncertainty rather than integration. Unlike those resettled in Western countries, they continue to imagine their return as the only true endpoint, even as the timeline is presently unknowable. This prolonged suspension—neither fully rebuilding a life elsewhere, nor fully relinquishing he hope to return home—shapes how refugees in Myanmar endure displacement, and how community leaders like Joseph and Patrick must balance hope and ongoing grief.
Joseph identifies the military junta as the root cause of Myanmar’s crisis and argues that the regime remains able to wage war because powerful nations continue to support it. He criticizes ASEAN’s non-interference principle and warns against repeating historical failures to act, invoking Rwanda as a moral reference point. Patrick says Myanmar’s people are fighting not for leaders but for freedom and dignity, and he asks those who believe in freedom to stay with them. Joseph warns that Myanmar faces continued, devastating airstrike campaigns and urges listeners to support the Burmese people in opposing the junta. Again, he pleads, “Please don’t forget about Myanmar!”